


the emancipation of yuuchin

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, spatula-san
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: As much as Tamamori likes to fly solo, sometimes two heads are better than one.





	the emancipation of yuuchin

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (object penetration) and cotton candy bingo (i becomes we).

“ _Finally_ ,” Tamamori hisses, turning on the water and letting it hit his face. He learned a long time ago that this is the best way to muffle his noises—he doesn’t want his mother to think he’s in pain again. But all of that leaves his mind when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing lightly as he hardens quickly and moans into his mouthful of water.

Instantly all of his worries and frustrations fade away, the stress of filming a drama and working with Kisumai and preparing for the holidays dissipating until there’s nothing but the pressure of his arousal. He used to have elaborate fantasies he’d play out before his eyes, but lately he’s been so busy that all he can do is rush through it and just focus on how it _feels_.

He honestly doesn’t know how people like Kitayama and Fujigaya can just pick up girls and get this kind of release with them. Other people are entirely too much effort, especially girls. You have to talk to them first and get them to be comfortable with you, and even if you get into her pants it’s usually awkward and she doesn’t do it right, or she whines about you going too fast, and Tamamori would just rather avoid all of that.

But as for Tamamori himself, he doesn’t need any pretense to reach down and get off—just a shower. It was a bit difficult to do while sharing a room with Kitayama and Miyata on tour, mostly because Kitayama would often jump into the shower _with_ him like that’s totally acceptable behavior between bandmates, but Kitayama slept enough that Tamamori could work around that.

“Ah,” Tamamori gasps into the spray, moving his hand up to fist the head just how he likes it, and he arches sharply as he comes hard over his fingers. “Good work, Yuuchin.”

His entire body feels tingly, the water adding to it as it runs down his skin, and Tamamori grins as he turns off the faucet and dries off. There’s no weird aftermath like there is with another person, either. No uncomfortable cuddling and awkward conversations about what happens now.

Tamamori is really his own best lover.

*

It’s not so much that things happen to turn him on to the point where he has to rush to the shower to take care of it; more like he just wants to relax and this is the best and easiest way to go about doing it. Sexual attraction doesn’t even factor into the picture, at least not usually. There are girls he thinks are hot, of course, but he’s not a teenager anymore and doesn’t react like one. Especially since he’s been expected to sell sex since he was pushed to the front of the group.

Sometime during the Ai no Beat promotions, Kitayama lets something interesting slip during an otherwise normal conversation and Tamamori’s curious enough to look into it. The Internet is a godsend for people like him, who could never ask another living soul about things like _fingering himself_ , and as expected Internet-san delivers. Vaseline serves the purpose and Tamamori’s next shower has him trying out different positions, each one only lasting until a muscle would cramp.

Eventually he finds something that works, his leg up on the side of the tub while he reaches behind himself and _oh my god_ he may have to inconspicuously treat Kitayama to a meal in gratitude. His cock is already twitching at the first touch to his rim, which tightens around his finger as he slowly pushes it in, relaxing enough to move it around and see what all the fuss is about. He explores himself as much as he can, slipping in another finger when he can and searching for something his body really wants him to find.

He figures out what it is when he barely grazes it, crying out at the sensation, though now he’s just frustrated that he can’t reach it very well. More position changing and Tamamori can get a marginally better angle on his back, his knees all the way up by his ears, and he nearly chokes on the water that pounds onto his face as he massages that spot as much as he can. It’s enough to keep him going, though, lowering his other hand to pull himself off and he’s never quite had an orgasm like this before, pleasure tearing through him and making him clamp down onto his own fingers as he comes.

“Oh my god,” Tamamori says out loud, turning his head so as not to drown as he tries to regain his breathing, and it takes him so long to move again that his brother is banging on the door whining about needing to go. Tamamori barely has enough foresight to return the jar of Vaseline to its previous location before drying off, wrapping a towel around his waist and stumbling past his brother without looking at him.

*

The days go on and Tamamori can’t quite get it right, finally considering what Internet-san suggests—buying a _toy_. He can’t bring himself to use his real name for an online purchase, so that leaves putting on a disguise and going to one of those seedy porn shops. He makes it in the door before he’s paranoid that everyone recognizes him and stares at the floor, feeling sketchier than the creepy old men loitering in the DVD section.

He knows what he’s supposed to look for, but all he sees are movies. There’s a sign that says ‘video arcade’ in the back and carefully he heads toward it. All too late he figures out exactly what that means and walks out of the store as fast as he can without being obvious, though the vision of a filthy hallway with _viewing rooms_ will probably haunt him for a long time.

“What do I do?” he asks no one, his body throbbing deep inside for something he can’t comfortably give it. Internet-san had gone on to say that if real sex toys weren’t an option, one could improvise by using _household items_ —Tamamori had clicked through the options with big, scandalized eyes, but now he finds himself with no other choice.

The market seems much different when he’s there for this reason, eyeing all of the common kitchen utensils critically because, well, he’ll be using it for an unintended purpose. He can’t look the little old lady in the face as he pays for a spatula with a particularly thick handle and runs home as fast as he can, closing himself up in his room to stare at it and gather up the courage to use it.

There’s no way he can do this in the shower; he doesn’t want to think about what anyone in his family would do if they saw him carrying a spatula into the bathroom. This leaves doing it right here, on his bed, and his eyes cut to the door that’s closed. It’s late enough that everyone else should be asleep, but he gets up and sets the lock anyway.

Setting his jaw in determination, he digs through the bags of condoms their managers constantly throw at them so that “we don’t have another Akanishi” and finds one that’s lubricated. He opens it and frowns; it’s way too big to fit on the end of the spatula. He’s going to have to just use it as is. Turning off all of the lights makes it marginally less shameful as he dips his fingers into the Vaseline he’d swiped from the bathroom (he would have bought his own, but he was scared it would have looked too obvious with the spatula).

He starts with just his fingers and calms down a little, heart still pounding in apprehension for having _more_. He opens himself just enough to relax his rim before reaching for the spatula, coating the handle with Vaseline before placing it between his legs. Closing his eyes tight, he starts to push it in, his back arching clear off the bed from the solid intrusion he hasn’t yet experienced. He gets it in far enough to angle at that spot and nearly yelps at the pressure, flinging his other arm over his mouth just in time.

Oh, this was a good idea. It feels _good_ , better than he could ever do with his fingers, and he doesn’t have to cramp his wrist trying. He speeds up a little and tests different levels of force, finding a rhythm he likes and sticking with it until he’s panting and pushing back against the makeshift sex toy. He wants to go harder and fuck himself properly, but it’s already starting to hurt a bit and he settles for just hitting that spot, gasping as he feels like he could finish like this.

Then he bites his lip and brings down his other hand, stroking himself in time with his prodding and he comes so fast that he almost screams out loud, stopping himself just in time by abandoning the spatula and covering his mouth. It seems to last forever, his hips continuing to rock up from the convulsions that course through him, and Tamamori lay limp and breathless as he tries to regain his coherence.

This time his shower is purely for washing, bringing a washcloth back to his room to clean the spatula. “I’m sorry, spatula-san,” he whispers, but he feels too good to really mean it.

*

It’s been awhile since he’s hung out with Miyata like this, but it’s just as comfortable as always. They lay on Tamamori’s bed and watch TV, Tamamori shoving Miyata over when he gets too close, and at one point he shoves him clear onto the floor.

“Oops,” Tamamori says, not remorseful at all. “You okay?”

Miyata laughs. “Yeah. Why is there a spatula under your bed?”

Tamamori’s eyes go wide. “Um.”

“Is it a present for your mom?” Miyata asks, and to Tamamori’s horror he’s holding the spatula _by the handle_ when he stands back up. “That’s kind of mean to give a woman cookware.”

“You…probably don’t want to touch that,” Tamamori says, biting his lip as he can’t decide whether to be amused or incredibly embarrassed. “It’s, um.”

Miyata’s face lights up. “ _Tama-chan_.”

“Don’t,” Tamamori says, bringing both hands to his face. “Just pretend like you never saw it, okay? Let’s go back to watching…whatever this stupid anime is.”

“Do you hit yourself with it?” Miyata asks, his voice sounding even and kind of curious. “I’ve always thought, you know, I might like that too, but I’ve been too scared to try.”

Now Tamamori can add traumatized to his list of emotions. “I really didn’t need to know that. And I don’t hit myself with it.”

“You’re the one with the—” Miyata stops short as he presumably realizes exactly what Tamamori uses the spatula for, letting it fall to the floor. “Oh my god.”

“I clean it,” Tamamori hisses, like that makes it better. “The only reason I have it is because porn shops are gross and Internet-san wants my name and I can’t reach on my own but I can’t use it too much because it kind of hurts and I’m just going to shut up now.”

Miyata says nothing, and after a few seconds of complete awkwardness Tamamori just stands up and walks out of his room. Nobody else is home, but the only place he feels safe is in the shower, running the water as hot as he can stand it as he tries to forget about Miyata finding out his dirty secret. Though the only other thing his brain wants to think about is Miyata getting off on being smacked, which isn’t much better.

“I give up,” he says when he feels himself start to harden. “You win, Yuuchin. We’ll think about him.”

It seems even naughtier to fantasize about someone in the next room, though that just makes it easier for him to imagine Miyata barging into the shower and replacing Tamamori’s hand with his own. Maybe he’d touch him inside, too, the thought of which has Tamamori hissing into the water spray. He hasn’t been sexually attracted to Miyata before, but feelings change. Miyata would probably be thrilled, Tamamori thinks bitterly. He’s been trying to get Tamamori to like him for years.

“Tama-chan?” Miyata’s voice sounds from outside the shower curtain, and it’s real.

“Go away,” Tamamori calls out, though his voice betrays him and makes him sound like he’s doing exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t stop touching himself because he actually can’t, Miyata’s presence fueling his arousal and making him want it more.

He closes his eyes when Miyata starts to get into the shower with him, still pulling off his clothes on the way. If Tamamori can’t see him, it’s not nearly as humiliating, even when Miyata grabs his wrist and pulls it away, pulling a very immature whine from Tamamori’s throat.

“Don’t,” he says. “You knew what I was doing and you came in here anyway—”

His words are cut off by Miyata’s lips, taking advantage of Tamamori still speaking to flick his tongue right inside, wasting absolutely no time tasting Tamamori’s mouth so fast that his head spins. His body is quite aware that its stimulation had been halted, his hips moving on their own in desperate search of friction, which makes him kiss Miyata back harder.

“Let me do it,” Miyata hisses between kisses. “It’ll be better than that thing, and safer. I can make it feel really good, I promise.”

Tamamori’s nodding before he realizes it, and his next breath has Miyata’s mouth completely removed from his as he’s spun around. The water is once again in his face, but Miyata’s body is pressed against him from behind, his hot skin sliding along Tamamori’s back, and Tamamori jumps when he feels what has to be Miyata’s erection poking him in the ass. “You’re not going to…do me, are you?”

“Only if you want me to,” Miyata answers, and his voice sounds even hotter in Tamamori’s ear like this. He drags his lips up Tamamori’s ear to his cartilage piercing and has to tighten his grip on Tamamori’s hips to keep him from losing his balance. “You’re such a mess right now, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Tamamori says, stretching his neck when Miyata’s mouth drops to his hairline. “There’s some Vaseline on the sink, though I think my mom suspects that someone’s been using it—”

“No need,” Miyata interrupts, and Tamamori registers a tube being placed on the shower tray next to his razor. “This stuff is better anyway, and water soluble. I’ll get you some the next time I’m out.”

“That would be nice,” Tamamori mutters, tensing at the way Miyata’s fingers travel up the back of his thigh. “Miyacchi, please.”

“With pleasure,” Miyata says, pressing the words into his skin, and then Tamamori feels his leg being lifted just a little. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“Whatever, just do it,” Tamamori huffs, bracing his hands on the tile wall as Miyata’s fingers approach his rim. It’s so surreal to feel a touch he can’t control, but he learns that he likes it better this way and opens up easier than when he does it himself. Or Miyata’s just better at it.

Miyata’s groan vibrates the back of Tamamori’s neck as he gets two fingers in, pushing them in and out before crooking them inside him. Tamamori squirms as his body seeks out that pressure again, and this time he moans out loud when Miyata touches it, tossing his head back onto Miyata’s shoulder and getting smacked in the face by water.

“How’s this?” Miyata asks, his voice sinfully low and making Tamamori shiver even under the hot water. “Do you want it deeper?”

“I,” Tamamori answers, interrupting himself with a gasp as Miyata hits that spot again. “Right there.”

“Right here?”

Tamamori nods as much as he can, reaching behind him for something to hold onto as his body falls victim to the intimate touch it’s been craving. He ends up with one hand on Miyata’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and the other on Miyata’s hip, bare and wet, and Miyata groans as he rocks against Tamamori’s backside. His fingers move faster, making Tamamori shudder in his hold, alternating between pressing on that spot and moving in and out of him, giving Tamamori a yearning for something else.

“More,” Tamamori says, the word spilling from his lips without any prior thought, but once it’s spoken his body throbs for it.

“Mm, what do you want?” Miyata murmurs. “Another finger? Me?”

“Both.” Tamamori’s skin burns with need, unable to even feel ashamed as he pushes back. “Miyacchi…”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Miyata pushes in a third finger and Tamamori winces, but then Miyata’s lips are on his neck and he tries to relax because from what he feels rubbing against him, Miyata’s much bigger than that. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Tamamori whispers. “Just…keep going.”

Miyata answers with his body, gently stretching Tamamori open for so long that Tamamori gets restless and takes Miyata’s cock in his hand. Miyata’s groan is beautiful, hips snapping and Tamamori can’t wait to feel that inside him. Miyata seems to share this opinion because he removes his fingers all too soon, leaving Tamamori empty and a little ashamed at how loose he is until he feels something smooth and hard press against his rim.

“Lean forward a little bit,” Miyata says, placing the palm of his hand on the small of Tamamori’s back to guide him, and Tamamori feels incredibly lonely until Miyata drapes himself over Tamamori’s back and grabs onto one of his hands. Tamamori smiles at the gesture, then Miyata’s pushing inside him and panting softly into his ear, and Tamamori can’t stop himself from rocking back to take more, both of them moaning as Miyata bottoms out.

The water starts to turn cold, but the heat between them doesn’t waver as Miyata slowly starts to move. Tamamori cries out, the small part of his brain that is still functioning praying that none of his family members have suddenly come home, because he can’t stop the noises pouring from his mouth as Miyata touches things inside him he hadn’t known he wanted to be touched. Miyata is also all around him, holding onto him tight and lacing their fingers together as he whispers filthy things into Tamamori’s ear, things like how good he feels and how tight he is and how hard Miyata’s going to come.

Tamamori is so hard that his cock is smacking against his stomach with each of Miyata’s thrusts, and he reaches down to take it into his hand. Miyata groans more than he does, using more force to push through his contracting muscles, and the next second has Tamamori’s hand batted away from himself and replaced with Miyata’s.

Somehow Miyata touches him just right, knowing how hard to squeeze and where to twist, and for probably the first time Tamamori just leans back and lets Miyata pull him off without getting annoyed or fixing his grip. “Miyacchi,” he gasps, already falling apart, “I’m almost there.”

“Come, Yuuta,” Miyata growls, and Tamamori follows the order like Miyata had actually pushed a button to make it happen. He jerks so hard that he completely loses his equilibrium, relying entirely on Miyata to hold him up as he spurts over Miyata’s hand. Miyata lets out a colorful combination of swear words and pulls out, fisting himself off so close that Tamamori can feel it, and Tamamori turns around in time to press his lips to Miyata’s throat as he finishes.

Tamamori expects it to be weird after this, but it’s not. Not at all. Miyata washes them both as well as he can with the now cold water and dries Tamamori off first, making devil horns out of his wet hair that Tamamori doesn’t notice until the fog on the mirror starts to clear. It’s unspoken that they’re going to share Tamamori’s bed, laying entirely too close on a mattress that’s only meant for one person, but there’s still plenty of space with Miyata clinging to Tamamori.

“Better?” Miyata finally speaks, and Tamamori nods sleepily. “Whenever you want that, you come to me, okay? Don’t use some weird thing that I’m never going to be able to look at the same way again. If you really want something, I’ll buy you a proper dildo.”

“I don’t need it,” Tamamori mumbles. “Normally I don’t like being with other people, but you’re different. I don’t have to buy you dinner first.”

Miyata laughs, a low chuckle that has Tamamori getting interested again. “Not at all. If anything, I’d probably buy you dinner after.”

“Compromise accepted,” Tamamori tells him, knowing fully well what he just agreed to.

Fingers brush his hair out of his face and it feels nice. “Why don’t you like being with other people?”

Tamamori whines like he’s being disturbed when in fact it’s the exact opposite. “Effort and they do it wrong and annoying.”

“Do I do it right?” Miyata asks, slipping his hand into Tamamori’s pants, waking up his cock instantly.

“Mm, yeah,” Tamamori replies, arching into the touch. “Yuuchin really likes you.”

Miyata pauses, and Tamamori realizes all too late what he’d just said as Miyata grins down at him. “Yuuchin, huh?”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Tamamori tries to hide his face, but it’s a little impossible when he’s in Miyata’s arms like this. “Like you don’t have a name for yours.”

“I don’t,” Miyata says seriously. “Want to name it for me? Or do you need to be properly introduced first?”

“ _Stop_ it—” Tamamori starts to protest, but then Miyata’s kissing him and stroking him much more pointedly. As they go again, this time Tamamori becoming well acquainted with Miyata’s body, Tamamori thinks about how doing it himself isn’t really going to cut it anymore. It doesn’t scare him as much as it should, because he’s known Miyata forever and Miyata knows just how to touch him, not to mention loves him to the end of the earth and back.

And who knows, maybe Tamamori can come to love Miyata, too.


End file.
